


We In Traffic

by disingenue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disingenue/pseuds/disingenue
Summary: Lexa. Clarke. And mashups.Rated Explicit, only for the song lyrics.Dedicated to Jay57, as a thank you, because they just really get me.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	We In Traffic

Lexa’s head hit the headrest with a light thump, stymied, as they hit traffic. They were homebound, to Clarke’s place, after a trip to the farmer’s market. Lexa had even admitted dryly that _“She didn’t hate it.”_ And that _“It was very lesbian of them to go there.”_ Titus was rustling around in the backseat. He grumbled; he probably had to pee after the near gallon of water he had drank so enthusiastically from the water station right before they decided to pack it in and return home. 

“Want your Biggie?” Clarke suggested. The intuitions came more naturally to her with every minute she spent with Lexa. The woman had put up with Taylor Swift for the entirety of the drive there, and for that, the blonde felt really pleased. Even relieved. Noticing Lexa palming a strand of hair tiredly from her face— It had been a long, hot date, she flipped the air conditioner on for the both of them. It was a humid day. Lexa had given her the full weather report as they had prepared for takeoff that morning. 

“Mmm,” Lexa responded self-consciously. “Can I deejay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke encouraged her. Underneath it all, she was preparing for something explicit, sad or even a little creepy, but that was okay. It wasn’t like it was with Finn in the driver’s seat, turning his _Rammstein_ up so loud it hurt, cutting people off and swearing and generally causing Clarke to grip the console with white knuckles. 

The opening chords to New Soul started playing. Well, this was sweet. 

_"I’m a n—_  
_I’m a n—"_

Quizzically, and maybe accusingly, Clarke shot Lexa a glance. Of course it had to be a mashup. 

“I was soooo warmed by your, uh, gesture… until I realized—“

_“Sh- This that hustler muzik_  
_Young Weezy got that motherfuckin' hustler musik_  
_To ride to with y’all, fly to with y’all, damn…”_

Lexa was already flowing. This meant it was a favourite. Oh dear. Clarke flopped against the driver door, pinching the bridge of her nose to conceal her smirk. 

_“Goddamn_  
_Next they hit a nigga in his head with this one_  
_I'm a paint the city red wit this one_  
_I'm a head wit' this one_  
_See you fuckin' wit' the boys who tote toys way before Christmas._  
_No assistance (its) that persistence me._  
_That commitment if, I don't get it somebody gone die tonight_  
_I know my vibe is tight,_  
_And I deserve that thrown,_  
_And if the kid ain't right,_  
_Then let me die in this song,_  
_See I'll be ridin' (just)_  
_Ridin' alone_  
_Wit' my daddy on my mind like you gotta be kiddin'_  
_How the hell you ain't here to see ya prince do his thing_  
_Sometimes I wanna drop a tear but no emotions from a king_  
_She'll be_  
_So I be who I be_  
_That's me that's Weezy F. Baby and_  
_Please say the motherf***in'_  
_So I be who I be_  
_That's me that's Weezy F. Baby and_  
_Please say the motherfuckin’…”_

An instinct hit Clarke. She loved singing in the car. Lexa had once admitted to her that her voice was as soothing as Tupac Shakur’s, and at the time she wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but she took it as a compliment. 

_“I’m a new soul, I came to this strange world  
Hoping I could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take  
But since I came here, felt the joy and the fear  
Finding myself making every possible mistake…”_

Lexa’s brows almost shot through the sunroof as she believed what she heard. A smile curled the corners of her lips as she concentrated on versing as Clarke sang her heart out. 

_“My head to the sky_  
_My feet on the ground_  
_My fingers to the judge if the money don't move_  
_And I won't budge_  
_Won't budge_  
_No I won't budge no_  
_Na…”_

They were at a standstill in traffic. It was okay, because they had to concentrate on staying in sync with each-other. To sing rounds, at the same time as rapping them. To chorus together. Their voices quieted Titus, who laid relaxed, head up attentively, his tail now thumping slowly against the floor of the crate.

_“Money is the motivation_  
_Facin' the avenue_  
_Back touchin' the wall_  
_Got the weed_  
_Got the gun_  
_Gotta run when I hear that bird call, dang_  
_Hop in that thang and merk off_  
_Swerve off_  
_You know me, they call me "Birdman Junior"_  
_Anybody murderer_  
_If Birdman sponsor it_  
_Phantom of the opera_  
_All black gwop tent, locked in_  
_I can let them shots out_  
_You can't get no shots in_  
_Bullet proof_  
_Leave a nigga wit' a bullet roof_  
_Shoot ya in ya mouth, Leroy they call 'em bullet tooth_  
_I'm like what it do_  
_What to do_  
_There's a full court pressure_  
_I'm just going for the two_  
_If I'm open for the three_  
_I'm a take it in a second_  
_Even if there's one second and_  
_I'm a make it, it's nothin'_  
_I don't take it for granted_  
_I don't take it for nothin'._  
_I take it for what it is worth to the durf motherfucker, y—“_

_“—new soul, I came to this strange world_  
_Hoping I could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take—“_

_“—My head to the sky_  
_My feet on the ground_  
_My fingers to the judge if the money don't move_  
_And I won't budge_  
_Won't budge_  
_No I won't budge no_  
_Na…_

_I ain't never killed nobody I promise_  
_I promise if you try me_  
_You gone have to rewind this track and make me go back_  
_That thing will go blat_  
_That boy will lay flat so flat_  
_That act is what I perform amongst you haters_  
_Got Nina in my palm and I'm masturbatin'_  
_Black Peter Pan flies too, I die, what you sayin'_  
_Bathing Ape, Yves Saint, Evisu, what I stay in—“_

Lexa reached her hand to Clarke’s leg, here, squeezing affectionately.

_“—And they all know how to cook it up_  
_Look I got some_  
_But only one know how the bad bitch, bundle up_  
_See its a cold world so homey bundle up_  
_We ain't on this grind for nothin'_  
_So get ya hustle u—“_

A horn blared behind them. Lexa twisted in her seat to shoot an intimidating stare over the roof of Titus’ kennel. She would hold it for dominance, until Clarke poked her several times. The didn’t need any road rage after their beautiful mashup. 

“Wanna do it again, Lex?”

“Mhm,” agreed the brunette, settling back in her seat and reaching for her phone. “That was too good.”


End file.
